#pball123

“Never thought we’d be lounging by the pool in January,” he said, sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, a glass shaped like a pineapple in his hand. (Even though he wasn’t pleased by the twist, it didn’t mean he couldn’t still enjoy it.)

“At least they’re mixing it up,” she said, gesturing at the expanse of pool in front of her, as someone did a cannonball into the deep end and several well-dressed Capitolites in the splash zone shrieked.

He had texted him a few times since he’d gotten the alert from the Capitol, and more than one Capitolite had been giving him long looks. The news was clearly spreading even to those who didn’t have their phones on them and Alder was gone. Where was he?

The whole room was tilting and he was far too drunk for this. Couldn’t this have broken earlier in the night before his... how many shots had it been?

And how did they know? It didn’t make any sense. But everything was ruined now. Alder would avoid him; the Rebellion was more important, of course it was, and he couldn’t afford the hit to his reputation that was Maverick. He’d never speak to him again. And so Maverick had lost yet another person in just over six months.

He spotted Abel over by the side of the pool talking to someone and in his drunk mind, two and two made four and suddenly he found himself running towards Abel, not slowing as he approached him, and crashing into him, throwing them both into the pool.

“Who did you tell?” he demanded when they surfaced, grabbing at Abel’s shoulders.

“You look beautiful!” he said when he met her in the hall outside of the ballroom. There were already sounds of water splashing inside. “I’ve come prepared with a drink.” He held out a cocktail with a little umbrella in it to her. “And I need your help looking busy to fight off sponsors.”

Maverick Montana, ft. “Normal Swimwear?”

Outfit on the left with suit on the right underneath